i hate everything i’ve ever written

the things i haven’t, too

i’ll spoon spite into my hungry wounds

use incense on my forearms

to practice english

but all i write of:

worry

worry

worry

7am

i am writing poems

on the things she hates about me

walking barefoot on frosty grass

scalding skin on privilege and

washing off that dream

7am

i am chain smoking my dread

contemplating a throat wound

stepping in dog shit and

drugging the voices

7am

i am thinking of her bloody lip

this molested earth,

cat roadkill and

corporal punishment

of self

7am

i am turning keys

making excuses

sinking

mouth deep now

blinking slowly

lowly

lowly

7am

i am alive

she hates showering with me

because i put my clothes over damp skin

itching to be hidden

quickly

just quickly

the white socks under my black shoes baby, i’ll still run just as fast.

how i sit up too straight in her Hyundai

and when i talk about you.

she hates how i make a home

in my mattress

as the sun is shining.

when i am alone

and when i am not

she hates my laugh

in another room

my sobriety and

the confusing poetry i write

with big words

and long titles

she hates when i am gentle on her

tracing softly down her belly

i love you

just shut up and choke me

she hates thinking of me

when she should’ve came by now

but her seducing gaze on him grows

dead

so she texts me

from the bathroom floor

as she starts to come down

but i am hiding in another state

phone dead

masturbating in the woods

to the thought of dying slowly

and taking her with me.

i ruined my life for her

and id do it again.

(she hates that)

it is cold where i sleep

and soon i will be gone

suffocated by orange

kitchen windows

on blue December weekdays,

from the curb outside,

through snowy eyelashes and

missed calls.

choked by the dog

when he shivers

i thought of feeding us both

poison

this is my fault

tonight these chords only earned us

eight dollars and a ziplock of snap peas so

the dog eats a McDouble

as i chew on my salary

and a man with a lot of cash

asks if i need work

but i’d rather ride frieght trains

than businessmen

and i’d rather eat concrete

than another dumpstered take-out box

and i’d rather not smile

when a manicured hand offers a single dollar

and spits

“this isn’t for you, it’s for the dog”

careful, ignorant woman

dont be fooled by blonde teenage breasts

i’ll gouge out my empty stomach

and leave it on your front porch

as my dog eats your cat food

and shits on your suburbia

fuck your dollar

and don’t worry about me

soon i will be gone

but for now

it is cold

it is cold

it is cold

where i sleep

she'll only love you if you fuck her right

maybe thats why she keeps

a collection of poems on

missing me and

getting high and

she'll only curl up in your lap

purring and

nuzzling

after you've stripped her pride

with an unwavering grip

and an open palm.

her

your trophy

and she is so goddamn tough

but if you can bring her to convulsion

while she squirms and

fights

if you can do it again

she'll be yours

for now

for now

she'll be yours

my poetry hits like acid reflux

and mouthfuls of chlorine water;

unkept and

green

green

green

green

they often tell me,

“it is, like, so beautiful.”

am i ungrateful for taking offense?

keep your beauty

the fuck away from me

let’s sharpen our teeth instead

running half drunk through the city,

pouring booze on open wounds

and skating right off

the parking garage.

i’d say i love you too

or maybe i'd say sorry

but anyone who knows me

would tell you

(i catch my own falls)

i knew you were going to do it.

you had never come to visit before

and when i saw all that money

on the coffee table

i should have told mom

but i just didn’t

and they found you the next day.

(she really misses you)